Certainly, old Pybus’s sticks were without pretensions. There was the old malacca cane without a ferrule, and the cherrywood that had a kink in it, and the plain ash that was still very much ash, and unusually heavy. Lance chose the ash stick, and the Venerable made a note of it. “You like ’em heavy, my dear.” Lance had nothing to add to the simple act of choosing. “May have tea over there.” “All right.” He went out and across the castle field, and old Pybus got up to watch him. Lance prodded the grass with the ash…
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